


Away Game

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Bring Back The Porn Challenge, Dom Ginny Weasley, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/F, Femdom, Not Epilogue Compliant, Orgasm Denial, Sub Hermione Granger, Teasing, kinky fluff, light genderplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: Hermione has to be good while Ginny is away. Correction: Shelovesto be good while Ginny is away.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 20
Kudos: 141
Collections: Bring Back The Porn Challenge





	Away Game

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 [Bring Back the Porn Challenge](https://bbtp-challenge.dreamwidth.org/).

"Have you seen my goggles?" drifts Ginny's aggravated voice across the apartment. "I swear I had them just a minute ago, but now I'm looking all over and it's like they just _vanished_."

"Right here," Hermione says as she comes into the bedroom and hands them over, trying and failing to suppress a smile. "They were in with the laundry again."

Ginny lets out a huff and casts a baleful glare at the goggles before tossing them into her travel bag with the rest of her Harpies kit. "Honestly."

Hermione shakes her head fondly. "What would you do without me?"

"Probably miss a lot of away games," Ginny grumbles. She slides her arms round Hermione's hips and gooses her behind, making her squeak, and then leans in for a kiss.

The brush of Ginny's lips against hers sends tingles down through Hermione's body. Her mouth is so sensitive just now—the way Ginny likes it to be. It brings Hermione to attention, focusses her. She melts into Ginny's embrace. Just a certain pliant curve of her back, a subtle tilt back of her head that signals a submissive invitation.

And Ginny reads her body language like a book. In a moment, her strong hand is at the back of Hermione's neck, and her kisses turn firmly dominating. Ginny takes her mouth again and again until Hermione is breathless.

When she pulls away, Ginny's eyes are lidded and dark, her mouth glistening-wet and curved into a cocky smile. She pats the bed beside them, and in a sure, husky tone so far from the girl of a few moments ago who couldn't keep track of her goggles, she says, "You want to get up here for me?"

With a delighted shiver and an eager nod, Hermione scrambles up onto their bed and kneels there in position, hands obediently clasped behind her back. She gazes up at Ginny adoringly.

"Aw, look at you," Ginny murmurs. She plucks a stray curl from Hermione's cheek and tucks it back behind her ear, then strokes her hair affectionately from crown to nape.

Hermione's back straightens as she presses up into the caress, hungry for the touch of Ginny's hands anywhere—everywhere.

Ginny's fingertips trace round her jaw, leaving tingles like a comet's tail. She tips Hermione's chin up with a knuckle, her eyes glittering wolfishly. "How long has it been since I let you come, baby girl?"

The answering thrum that resounds through Hermione's body cries out greedily, _forever!_ But in truth, she hasn't been counting the days. Their play isn't about that anymore—hasn't been for a long time. "I'm not sure," she admits.

Ginny lets out a low chuckle. "That long? It can't have been more than a few weeks." Her hand drops down to circle round Hermione's breast and finds her nipple poking through the fabric of her blouse. "Does it feel like longer?" she asks, fiddling it idly between thumb and forefinger.

Hermione trembles and arches into the touch. "Y-yes." 

"Yes, what?" Ginny prompts, giving her nipple a hard, corrective pinch.

"Ah! Yes, _Sir!_ " Hermione gasps. Her eyes are drawn to Ginny's lean forearm and the muscles that move under her skin as she twists Hermione's nipple, drawing forth another yelp.

"Good girl." Ginny releases her and gives her breast a mercifully gentle squeeze before moving further down.

Hermione shuffles her knees wider apart on the mattress, awkward on the soft surface, her breath coming quick and ragged.

"What's that for?" Ginny teases, and stops to give her belly a playful tickle. "Do you think I'm going to touch you down there?"

Hermione breathes a laugh and squeezes her hands together behind her back. "Please, Sir?"

Ginny raises an eyebrow and trails her fingers down to toy with the hem of Hermione's skirt, brushing against her bare thigh. "Are you wet for me?"

"Yes, Sir." It's been long enough that Hermione is always wet for Ginny. A silly question, but one that Hermione never, ever tires of being asked.

"Mm, let's see..." Ginny's hand slips between Hermione's thighs and strokes slowly, teasingly along the damp gusset of her knickers, back to front.

Hermione crumples over herself a little, moaning at the pleasure that sparks from Ginny's touch. She presses down into it, bucking her hips for more stimulation.

Ginny clicks her tongue warningly, and cautions, "Stay up for me."

Hermione straightens up and breathes out forcefully through her nose. She fidgets her hands together behind her and makes herself stay still as Ginny plays with her. Though her touch feels almost leisurely, stroking her outside and then creeping under the elastic to explore her sensitive folds, Ginny holds Hermione intently in her gaze all the while, taking in her every little twitch and gasp like nothing could be more fascinating to her than Hermione's pleasure.

"You do realise," Ginny purrs lazily, peerly fixedly into Hermione's eyes as her fingertip circles her opening, "there's absolutely no chance I'm going to let you come before I leave?"

Weeks' worth of pent-up need pulses between Hermione's legs, crying out desperately for Ginny to rub her to completion... Yet at the same time, Hermione feels herself settle into calm, centred certainty: She can trust Ginny to deny her. To hold her where she needs to be. "Yes, Sir."

"Now, are you going to be a good girl and keep your hands out of your knickers while I'm away? Or do I have to charm them again?"

Hermione flushes at the memory of that punishment—not being able to get her hands within six inches of her sex without Ginny's spellwork pushing them back like the wrong side of a magnet. "I'll be good, Sir."

"Good. I don't like having to resort to magic. I much prefer it when you behave yourself all on your own. Because you want to."

It isn't quite a question, but Hermione still nods vigourously. "Yes, Sir. I want to."

"I know." Ginny pulls her hand out from the gusset of Hermione's knickers and presses her palm against the outside, massaging gentle circles over her clit. "Does this feel good, baby girl?" she asks softly.

Hermione lets out a cry that's almost a sob, grasping hard at her own wrist behind her back. Suddenly she's teetering on a terrifying edge, like standing over a roaring, crashing sea.

"Look at me," Ginny orders.

Hermione's eyes flutter open, though she hadn't even realised she'd shut them.

Ginny's gaze holds her steady, just as her hand firmly cradles her cunt. "Hold it for me," she says, her voice like steel. "I've got you. Breathe."

And as Hermione breathes, her clit backs off that dangerous edge, further and further back with each heartbeat. She breathes in, breathes out, so loved, so safe.

Ginny's hand slips out from underneath Hermione's skirt, and she makes the little beckoning motion with her fingers that means Hermione is allowed to get up, just as her thighs and were starting to ache from kneeling. She gets to her feet, and the two women fall into an embrace.

Ginny holds her tightly, strokes her hair and her back. "You okay?" she asks, her lips brushing against Hermione's ear.

There aren't words for how intensely _okay_ Hermione is—okay with how things are between them, with the life they've made together. "Yes," she says, and starts giggling with the understatement of it, overcome by the giddiness of her body swimming in endorphins that have nowhere to go.

And then Ginny starts laughing along with her (when Hermione laughs it often gets her going too, even if she doesn't know what's so funny) and they stand there like that for a minute or two, turning gently back and forth like a slow dance and feeling each other's bodies softly resonate with laughter.

"Don't you have to go?" Hermione says at last, reluctantly. "You're going to be late for your Portkey."

Ginny turns to the clock and frowns. "It's not until three o'clock."

"Two-thirty," Hermione corrects her, drawing in her lips to conceal a smile.

"Oh, you're joking!" Ginny throws her hands up in exasperation and hurriedly collects her kit, sparing a stern look at the wayward goggles before she zips them into her bag. "It's like Mum always says, if my head weren't attached... Sorry to rush off. I'll see you Monday." She drops a kiss on Hermione's cheek and fairly sprints out the door.

Suddenly alone, Hermione lets herself fall back on the bed and bursts out into giggles again. Hearing the twittering of birds out their sunny apartment window, feeling the exquisite ache between her thighs, she delights in the knowledge that she's going to be so very good while Ginny is away, and in the joyous revelation that it is possible for everything to be this perfect.


End file.
